


blest

by seditonem



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-21 03:58:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1536677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seditonem/pseuds/seditonem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(previously i just called this 'untitled' which is uninspiring) percy goes to the isle of the blest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	blest

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this for a friend of mine several years ago. i hope she's doing well.

Percy Jackson is twenty-five when he dies.   
  
It is a spring day, the air is crisp and dry, and he is thinking of Sally Jackson and blue icing on his last birthday cake when he shuts his eyes for the last time.  
  
#  
  
It was a manticore. Percy had always hated them the most, simply because the tail came out of nowhere and bam, you were hit. Invincibility helped, but it was the split-second where he’d turned his back, his arm ready to strike as he prepared to swing back against the monster, and there’d been a sharp hot pain in the middle of his lower back.   
  
And that was that.  
  
#  
  
Percy is pretty familiar with the Underworld. He doesn’t really mind Charon, who’s moved on to all-over leather body-suits (he looks worse than any of the Furies, Percy’s sure), nor does he mind the wait in the lobby. His is shorter than most, since Percy actually has money for the fare.   
  
The judges of the day – Cicero, some recently deceased British judge Percy doesn’t know, and Socrates – allow him through to the Isle of the Blest almost at once, and before he’s really sure what’s happening, he’s standing in front of the gates, which swing open with a soft melodic sigh, as if they’re welcoming him home after a long journey.   
  
#  
  
The Isle of the Blest is stuck in a blissful early evening. The sunlight is amber coloured, making everything sparkle delicately in the light, and the windows of the houses reflect patterns of gold onto the pavements. It’s like a regular American small town, with an open park for people to have barbeques and fly kites. There’s always something good to drink or to eat, and no one ever gets tired or needs to sit down to catch their breath.   
  
Percy drifts through, feeling oddly content with himself. He eats some corn on the cob, sitting on the steps in front of Silena and Beckendorf’s house with the two of them, talking about nothing.   
  
“How’s life on the other side?” Silena asks. Beckendorf has one finger curled in a lock of her hair. She’s leaning on his shoulder. Percy squints as the light hits his eyes, thinking about his mom. He hopes she’s not panicking. Hopefully his dad’s already told her what’s going on. He wonders if he’ll ever see his dad again, and then decides it doesn’t really matter. Poseidon is a constant, even if Percy can’t see him.   
  
“Eh,” he shrugs. “It goes on.”   
  
“Smartass,” Beckendorf grins. Percy waves goodbye and sets off to find somewhere to call home in the everlasting twilight age of the Isle of the Blest.  
  
#  
  
The street he moves into (not that he has anything to move in with, really, just his own clothes and the breath in his lungs) has willow trees on it. It’s right by the river, and the branches of the trees hang into the water like they can’t bear to be parted. Percy walks around the house for a little while, looking at the bare floors and the empty walls, and then goes to sit by the water.   
  
The Isle of the Blest isn’t exactly what he expected. It’s beautiful, it’s perfect, and it’s calm, but he misses the danger of real life sometimes, although the feeling doesn’t linger.   
  
Somewhere behind him, a door shuts quietly, and someone walks down the porch steps and comes to sit next to him.   
  
“New here?” they ask.  
  
“Yeah,” Percy shrugs. “Is it always this quiet?”   
  
“Depends. Sometimes they throw really big parties in the next street over.”   
  
“Oh,” Percy hums. “You go to most of them?”  
  
“If I’m in the mood. But most of the time it’s just nice not to have anything to worry about.”   
  
Percy looks up into the eyes of Luke Castellan.  
  
#  
  
Time must pass, Percy knows, but it doesn’t show. He has endless visitors: kids he knew from Camp who look younger than him now, since they died before him, friends, and even Nico drops by. Percy ends up collecting furniture, getting help from some of the Apollo kids who paint his walls and help set up his sound system.   
  
He ends up throwing a party. Even though he doesn’t know how it happens, because he didn’t order anything, food and drink appear, and he’s mildly tipsy by the time Luke drops by.  
  
“Hi,” Percy says, and holds onto Luke’s shoulder for support.  
  
“Started early, didn’t you?” grins Luke, and helps him outside onto the porch. They sit down by the river, and Luke produces his own bottle of beer, which he sips at slowly.   
  
Percy thinks how odd it is to sit in companionable silence with a man who you helped kill.   
  
“I’m sorry,” he blurts out. “For everything.”  
  
“Me too,” Luke replies, after a moment of silence.   
  
#  
  
Percy’s afterlife begins to develop a rhythm. He goes out to a party, comes back to his house to relax for a bit and read, swims in the river, and then sits and just exists for a little by the side of the river. _Lather, rinse, repeat._  Percy wonders why it doesn’t become boring, this repetitive existence, but he figures it’s because everything is always different. The colours of the world of the Isle of the Blest are always changing, always magical, as if he’s trapped in the Lotus Casino all over again, but this time there’s nothing sinister about it. He feels slightly drunk even when he’s sober, and the smell of barbeque and laughter hangs in the air all around him as he pulls himself out of the river and sits on the bank.  
  
Sometimes Luke comes and sits next to him.   
  
And then  _sometimes_  becomes  _always_.  
  
#  
  
They’re at a party, with loud music and people dancing all over the place, all around each other. Percy passes Luke a beer, feels like he’s eighteen all over again, and dances with one of the Huntress girls who’s finally warmed up to guys enough to dance with them occasionally. After a while he pulls himself out of the throng of people and stands in the sunlight, letting the rays warm his skin.   
  
He doesn’t have to look to know Luke’s standing beside him.   
  
He doesn’t have to open his mouth to know what’s about to happen.   
  
Luke puts his hand on Percy’s shoulder, curls his fingers into the fabric of his worn old t-shirt, and Percy looks at him as if it’s the first time they’re seeing each other.   
  
Luke’s mouth is hot, warm against Percy’s tongue as they kiss. He can taste every forgotten inch of him, every place that Luke hid away when he thought he’d never be forgiven.   
  
This time there’s no applause, no one shouting  _About time, too!_    
  
Percy sort of prefers it this way, though.  
  
#  
  
The world skids underneath their bare feet as they hurry back to Percy’s house. The door’s open – no need to lock it in a place like this – and Percy’s fingers are twined with Luke’s as they stumble into his bedroom. Luke sheds his clothes, his hands always returning to Percy’s body, and before Percy can breathe properly they’re naked on the sheets.  
  
The second kiss is faster than the first, more urgent. Percy can feel Luke’s heart beating hard underneath his hand, can feel his pulse beneath every inch of his skin. He licks down Luke’s neck, drawing his fingernails along the sensitive skin of Luke’s belly and down to his cock, which is hard against him already. He feels like he wants to drink in the entire moment, relive it and hold onto it forever.   
  
“Hey,” Luke whispers, “slow down. We’ve got all the time in the world.”   
  
“Yeah,” grins Percy. He kisses Luke again. “Yeah, we do.”   
  
Luke’s eyes flutter shut as Percy jerks them off together, tangled in the sheets, and when he comes his mouth opens and he gasps like he’s been wounded. Percy can’t stop staring at him, at this thing that’s happened to both of them.   
  
Afterwards, he traces every line of Luke’s body, feeling more alive than he’s ever been in his whole life.   
  
“Welcome to the Isle of the Blest,” Luke murmurs, a smirk on his face. “We hope you enjoy your stay.” Percy grins, can’t help laughing.   
  
“I think I’ll have to do some sightseeing,” he says, contemplatively, spreading Luke’s legs and curling a finger slowly into him.   
  
“I’m happy to show you around,” gasps Luke, his cock hardening again as Percy adds another finger and mouths at the stretched skin around his digits.   
  
“I’m sure you’re an excellent tour-guide,” Percy muses, kissing the skin above Luke’s hip-bones. He bites at the slick skin, then sucks on the head of Luke’s cock until Luke is moaning, his fingers caught in the sheets. Percy grins, biting gently up Luke’s chest in a way that’ll leave marks.   
  
“I try my best,” Luke replies, shrugging modestly, but the effect is slightly ruined as Percy removes his fingers and pushes in slowly, dragging out the pleasure. Luke’s back arches against the sheets, and Percy can’t help tightening his hands on Luke’s hips.   
  
Like everything else in the Isle of the Blest, pleasure is heightened, and it doesn’t take long before they’re both coming. Percy sees midnight colours and gasps with bliss.   
  
“Good tour,” he says, quietly. Luke snorts with amusement.   
  
#  
  
They go swimming later. Percy doesn’t bother taking swimming shorts, and neither does Luke.   
  
Standing under a willow tree, hidden by the branches and leaves, Percy kisses Luke, and thinks perhaps he can give up longing for danger in life if he has Luke. 


End file.
